She and Namia descended below ground to their settlement via a painful ladder that Lilia had argued against from the first day, because it meant the old and infirm, like her, suffered needlessly going up and down it when they could have used a ramp. But she was overruled, as the ladders were easier to remove than a ramp. Mohrai and Meyna had focused more on keeping out invaders, without a care for creating a prison for many of their own people.
Lilia’s leg ached as she traversed the cavernous underground system of tunnels connecting the bladder traps that went on for nearly two square miles, tucked just beneath the surface of the woodland. Her chest began to tighten with the stress and exercise, and she took a long swig from her mahuan-laced water bulb, hoping to stave off a wheezing fit. Lilia had found the giant subterranean puzzle of mummified traps a few weeks into the exile of the Dhai who had survived the Tai Mora invasions. It had been her idea to reverse the fangs on the dead traps in all but a few heavily monitored entrances, which prevented others from coming down. Over time, they had dug through the shallow wells between the traps, linking them into rooms, corridors, several kitchens, and even a massive gathering space.
She entered the series of rooms she shared with Emlee, Tasia, and Namia, all lit with flame fly lanterns. The flame flies came to life as she approached, disturbed by the heat and movement, giving her enough light to maneuver through the small spaces.
Two jistas had watch over her rooms, and put thumb to forehead as she passed. Both wore white ribbons around their necks. They were twin sisters, Mihina and Harina, long-legged young women dressed in long burlap tunics that made them look like bristling bags of firewood.
“Is everything all right?” asked Mihina, the one with the stronger jaw and the tendency to cock her head every time she asked a question.
“I’m fine. The weather has moved into my chest.” She gave a raspy cough for good measure.
Inside Lilia’s room, she kept a massive old map on top of a bulbous growth that served as a table. Back against the far wall was a trunk, three paces long and two paces tall. The jistas – Salifa, Mihina and Harina – knew about the bones and silvery green symbol that rested within, but no one else. She had told Emlee it was private, and locked it, just in case. The last thing she wanted was Tasia to begin digging around in it. The box had been set up over a week ago, and in the last day began emitting a strange odor. The room smelled of honey and dead birds.
As she entered, a slight figure stood up from the shadows. Lilia started, so suddenly she gasped to catch her breath. “Caisa!” Lilia said. “I’m so sorry. I completely forgot.”
“It’s all right,” Caisa said, pulling back the hood of her coat.
Lilia pressed her hand to her chest, wheezing. She did not want to take the mahuan in front of Caisa if she did not need to. “I’m sorry,” Lilia said. “Please, yes, let’s sit.”
“Li?” Caisa said, and came to her side. “May I help you into a seat?”
Lilia shook her head, denying consent. “I wanted to have a look at the map.” She coughed. Dug around for her mahuan mixture in her pocket. Only a few swallows left. She needed Emlee to prepare another batch. Lilia took a shallow swallow and motioned Caisa to the table.
The map was Salifa’s work, a lovely rendition of Dhai all scratched out in violet ink on a great, pounded sheet of green paper. Lilia had marked each temple, including the sunken one, as well as known locations for the bulk of Kirana’s forces: the harbor, the plateau outside Oma’s Temple, Kuallina, and the pass where Liona had been. Red Xs dotting the foothills around Mount Ahya indicated where her small groups of rangers had successfully lured and abandoned Tai Mora scouting parties. The Catoris had liked that gambit because it involved no direct violence – they had lost just one of their own people in all that time, and him to a bone tree. It was the terrain that killed the Tai Mora, once the Dhai took them deep enough into the wood. Lilia had instructed her people not to touch one hair on those Tai Mora heads, even as screaming sentient trees popped off Tai Mora limbs and digested them.
Namia came up next to her. She made the sign for death, as if she could sense Lilia’s thoughts.
“Not yet,” Lilia said. She glanced at Caisa. “I’m sorry. We didn’t expect a report this early.”
“Is Catori Yisaoh coming?”
“I’m afraid she’s indisposed. I’ll relay the information to her.”
“I came as quickly as I could,” Caisa said. Caisa had been part of a refugee group from another temple. She was a lean parajista, freckled and high of forehead. A fringe hid much of the forehead, the glossy dark hair cut in a severe style that mirrored the grim look on Caisa’s round face.
“What have they done now?” Lilia asked.
“The fifth temple has finally been raised,” Caisa said.
“From the ocean? The whole thing?”
A nod. “It’s just the… heart of it, though. It’s like a temple with all the trappings of it taken off. Like a beached leviathan.”
“What’s inside?”
“They aren’t able to penetrate it.”
“They got into the other temples, though. Any movement there?”
Caisa shook her head. “The temples are still bleeding, where they forced their way through. They groan sometimes, rumble. They aren’t happy about it.”
“I wish they could do more than rumble. If they haven’t gotten inside the fifth temple, then–”
“They’ve established where the jistas will be,” Caisa said. She pulled a waxed cylinder from her coat. “May I?”
Lilia nodded.
Caisa unrolled a few pieces of parchment onto the table. Lilia wrinkled her nose at it. The Dhai did not make paper from the skins of animals or human beings, not like the Saiduan and Tai Mora. The barbarity of it still rankled Lilia.
“I have lists, here, of the jistas chosen for each temple,” Caisa said, “for the niches. These are the four jistas of each time, plus a sort of… conduit: a central figure in each temple, that the others focus their power on.”
Lilia read over the names, but only a few seemed familiar, like Suari, Kirana’s closest jista. They were all Tai Mora. She pondered what they could do with this information. Assassinate one of them? A whole group of them? But surely Kirana would have others ready to take their places.
“Here is the realization,” Caisa said. “You see this fifth temple? The arrangements of the jistas are different. This fifth temple, the central figure is thought to be a worldbreaker. That’s the person who will wield the combined power of all five temples to close the ways between the worlds. And these other two… these are different, as well. Someone who can enter the temple, maybe a Kai? And another, just behind the Worldbreaker, that must step into this cocoon thing here. For what purpose, I don’t know, but the fifth temple certainly requires more pieces.”
“They still haven’t fully translated the book?”
“No.”
“That’s something.”
“We haven’t either, though,” Caisa said.
Lilia hesitated. “Caisa, has… has Catori Meyna or Catori Yisaoh spoken to you about our people leaving the country?”
“What? No!”
“Catori Meyna announced it today. I’m concerned that the Catoris are no longer especially interested in what the Tai Mora are doing unless it’s directly impacting us here.”
“But… it will impact us! If they can get the power of the satellites concentrated at this fifth temple, they could reach you, reach us! From anywhere. There’s nowhere to go, when one force has that much power.”
“Won’t they just use it to close the ways between the worlds?”
“Everyone says that, but I know there’s more to it. It’s called a worldbreaker for a reason.”
The box in the corner rattled. Lilia started. Caisa peered at it. “What’s that?”
“Nothing,” Lilia said.
“Perhaps you could talk to the Catoris,” Caisa said. “I do think there’s an opportunity here, before all
the satellites enter the sky, to alter our position.”
“I agree with you,” Lilia said, “but it was difficult enough to get buy-in for an upcoming strike. And with Catori Mohrai dead… Catori Meyna is moving us in another direction.”
Caisa cocked her head. “Li, when has anyone ever moved you in a direction you did not want to go in?”
“I’ll speak to them,” Lilia said, “after this offensive. We’ll have a better idea then of how much the Tai Mora are shaken by our offense.”
“I’ll leave these here,” Caisa said. “Oh, you should also know that I spotted tumbleterrors over the next rise. The funerary feast may be drawing them. I told one of your scouts who escorted me in, but I wanted to be sure you knew as well.”
“Thank you, Caisa. Stay a bit in the guest quarters. Mihina!”
Mihina appeared quickly, as if she had been listening at the door. “Yes, Li?”
“Could you take Caisa to the guest quarters? Ensure she has something to eat and drink.”
Mihina pressed thumb to forehead and gestured for Caisa to follow her.
As they left, Namia signed at Lilia, “Change? Plan?”
“No,” Lilia said. “We don’t know enough.”
“Hurt,” Namia signed.
“I know they hurt you,” Lilia said. “They hurt me too. We’ll get our revenge though, Namia. Very soon. Their encampment near Tira’s Temple won’t be protected during Tira’s Festival, just as it was not last year. Whoever remains there for the festival, well. They will meet us.”
“Soon,” Namia signed.
“Yes, soon. Let’s see if the feast is over.” Lilia spared another look at the box, which remained still, then moved into the corridor.
She heard the patter of footsteps on the bare ground. Tasia barrelled toward her from around a bend in the tunnel, as if someone had lit a fire behind her. She beamed like a bear with a snaplilly. Lilia had never seen her look so ecstatic. Tasia bolted past Harina and hurled herself into Lilia’s arms, nearly knocking her off her feet.
“What is it, love?” Lilia asked.
“The Kai has returned!” Tasia crowed.
Lilia had a moment of dissonance. “The… Kai? You mean the… Catoris? Meyna? Yisaoh?” Oma, Lilia thought, was Mohrai alive? With Oma in the sky and the world breaking apart, anything was possible.
“No, no!” Tasia pushed away and began hopping up and down, clapping her hands. “The Kai is here! The real Kai!”
A look of dread came over Harina’s face. “No, no,” she said, touching the white ribbon at her throat. “Tasia, you know Kai Ahkio is dead. Him, my cousins, nearly everyone at Oma’s Temple–”
“He isn’t!” Tasia insisted, and Emlee came around the bend in the tunnel and Lilia saw the truth in Emlee’s face.
“Kai Ahkio is alive!” Tasia said. “We are saved now, Mother Lilia! Kai Ahkio has come to save us!”
“Emlee?” Lilia asked.
Emlee placed her hands on Tasia’s head, to settle her so she didn’t push Lilia over in her excitement. “There is indeed someone at the thorn fence,” Emlee said, expression grave. “Someone who shares Kai Ahkio’s face.”
6
After a skirmish with the Dorinah, Natanial generally spent the evening drinking with Otolyn and his fighters. But he was less eager to do so this time. The weary lack of progress the last two months had taken its toll on him.
He spent the late afternoon counting up the dead and ensuring their belongings things were wrapped to send back home. He visited those who had been wounded, and tended to the morale of the company. By the time he was done, it was dark, and he was thirsty and had a powerful desire to be left alone.
Natanial rode his dog into the little captive Dorinah village, Asaolina, that the Tai Mora had turned into their supply base. The tavern there was lit up like a festival square. Tai Mora crowded the street, laughing and drinking and playing games of chance. Many of the games he didn’t recognize. While most Tai Mora had the tawny skin and slight features of Dhai, it had clearly not been a homogeneous country like that of the Dhai. The gathered soldiers spoke a dozen different languages, though all shared Tai Mora in common. The hair colors and textures, heights and body types and features, gave him the impression that the Tai Mora had conquered countries with a wide geographic scope on their own world. The more Tai Mora someone looked, the more likely they were to be someone in charge; that bit of petty blood rule was unchanged from places like Dorinah and Saiduan. Natanial had encountered it himself when he traveled from Aaldia to Tordin. Tordinians had always looked at him with unease and mistrust, a foreign man in a foreign land, no matter how exceptional his Tordinian or how many years he spent in their backward little country.
He found a seat at the bar in the raucous tavern, a smooth granite counter that put him in mind of better days. He ordered a beer from the barkeep, a Dorinah woman who looked like she would rather punch him than serve him. He could not blame her.
A Tai Mora group emerged from the back of the tavern, exiting from one of the private meeting rooms that had once been reserved for local magistrates and officials. Natanial recognized the Tai Mora generals, including Monshara. She was dressed down, no armor, just a long gray tunic and sturdy trousers. One of the few Tai Mora who retained a bit of plumpness in her face, she had the gray eyes and pale complexion of a Dorinah. Her broad nose and narrow jaw made it look like she was always staring down her nose at something that upset her. She had scrubbed away the filth and stink of the battlefield. Her hair was a mop of tangled black curls.
Natanial didn’t acknowledge her, but she noticed him. She bid the other generals goodnight and came over to the bar, smelling of soap and leather. He stiffened, uncertain. Tai Mora had been known to praise with one hand and strangle with the other. The pay was good, yes, and he enjoyed being on the winning side, but the unpredictability of the Tai Mora was far worse than what he’d endured under King Saradyn back in Tordin.
“Put this man’s drinks on my tab,” Monshara said, in Dorinah, placing a hand on his shoulder. She was shorter and heavier than him by a good fifty pounds. Maybe she was getting all of her calories from beer. “You didn’t have to step in today to cut off that force of Dorinah. I didn’t order you.”
He sipped his beer, studying her. Warm and flat, the beer made him grimace. He said, also in Dorinah, “You could dismiss the company for not obeying an order, if that’s what you’d like.”
“Certainly.” Her breath smelled of beer, and her eyes were bright; he was uncertain how much she’d had to drink. “That’s because there are very few smart soldiers. Smart soldiers become officers, in Tai Mora, and Aaldia, Tordin, certainly. Which begs the question… why are you just a boot-licking mercenary?”
“You have your own assassins,” Natanial said. “They are better than I am. This was the next logical career path for me.”
Monshara laughed. She climbed into the seat next to him and ordered herself a drink. “You speak very good Dorinah for a foreigner.”
“I’ve spent a lot of time here.”
“Working for Tordin?”
“Now and then.”
“You knew King Saradyn?”
“In passing.”
“Saradyn ever use jistas?”
“There aren’t a good many in Tordin.”
“Omajistas?”
“You recruiting?”
“Always.” The barkeep brought her drink, and she took a long swallow. “You saw the mess out there. With an omajista we’d have won this campaign eight months ago.”
“You do seem a bit… understaffed.”
“We aren’t a priority. The Empress has other projects. I’ve asked often for an omajista, but… well. She’s preoccupied with her temples, and rooting out little Dhai spies. With an omajista you could open up a gate directly into Daorian.”
“Surely you’ve tried that?”
“We did, a few months back, before you arrived. They had wards up. We think we’ve successfully removed the wards,
but it means convincing my Empress that I won’t waste an omajista this time around.”
Natanial considered that. He took a long swallow from the beer. A few Tai Mora women began a rousing chorus of some bawdy song. They were not so different from Dorinah, some nights. “I wish you luck with that,” Natanial said, “though I do enjoy taking your money until then.”
Monshara laughed and thumped the table. “You Aaldians will outlast us all. You are Aaldian, aren’t you? That’s what your second says. You don’t look it. Tordinian, certainly.”
“I’m surprised the Tai Mora haven’t turned their armies on Aaldia yet,” Natanial said, moving the conversation away from his own parentage. He had no interest in commiserating with her about his past.
“No need,” Monshara said. “There are no living temples there, like in Saiduan and Dhai, and there’s no people on our side that mirror the Aaldians. You’re unique to this world. Eliminating you would serve no purpose. The Empress is ever the pragmatist when it comes to genocide. Besides, the war for the world has been won. If she gives us a fucking omajista, I could be sitting on a fucking country estate right now. But she’s gotten paranoid. She’s walling herself in.”
Natanial had spent much of his life fighting the Dorinah and the cruelties they had unleashed here and elsewhere in Tordin. Or perhaps he sensed that once this campaign was done, his usefulness to the Tai Mora would end. How to better position himself for the future? He chugged the rest of the beer and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Was he trying to be useful, or was he just selfish, and lonely?
“I know where to find an omajista,” Natanial said, the words spilling out before he had time to consider it further. “He could be… persuaded to assist you, I think.”
Monshara raised a brow. “And what do you want in return, mercenary?”
“It’s been a long time since anyone asked me that. Anyone with the ability to deliver something other than money.”
“Other than money? What kind of mercenary are you?”
“I like to work for the winners,” Natanial said. “I bring you an omajista, and you keep my crew in work. I want to be close, to be useful. I want a future in the world that’s coming into being. That’s all.”
The Broken Heavens Page 8
